The Prince and the Hawk
by Taywen
Summary: FE10; non-laguz AU. Phoenicis has been conquered by Kilvas. Prince Tibarn swears revenge against the Kilvan royal family. What better way to achieve it than through Kilvas' own prince, Naesala? Slash, TibarnNaesala.


Disclaimer: FE does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Nintendo, etc.

* * *

**THE PRINCE AND THE HAWK**

**Part 1: Prince meets Hawk**

Phoenicis and Kilvas, two neighbouring countries separated by a deep, wide river, had been at war for many years. The origins of the feud were a mere accident, but an underlying tension had been lurking beneath the surface of the two nations for years, and the single incident sparked devastating consequences. The accidental death of a visiting Kilvan prince (and it was purely accidental, not to mention completely instigated by the Kilvan prince himself - though later propaganda would suggest otherwise in grand and ultimately dishonest terms) was the catalyst. Indeed, it seemed the two countries were merely waiting for an excuse to declare war, when the speed with which the attacks escalated was considered.

Kilvas won; the Kilvan king was a sneakier sort, more inclined to make shady deals and alliances than the proud, aloof king of Phoenicis. Though the Phoenician army was defeated after a drawn out five years, and though the capital was captured, and the king, his wife and his daughters executed, resistance remained.

Prince Tibarn, heir-apparent to the Phoenician throne, along with the tattered remnants of the once-powerful Phoenician army, still remained. Phoenician patriotism was strong; no matter how the Kilvan commanders fought and threatened and killed, the peasants wouldn't give up their prince. More often than not, those same commanders were found murdered in their beds.

This tactic of terrorizing the peasantry did not last long. King Kilvas had higher aspirations, and did not wish to waste further time with the troublesome prince. Through unknown means, he ascertained the resistance's whereabouts... And brought the full might of the Kilvan army to bear against them.

xx

**Phoenicis, Resistance Base**

"Prince Tibarn, you _must_ go!" Ulki, the premier general of the former Phoenician army insisted, his usually calm voice betraying his aggravation. "Janaff-" the leader of the resistance's scouts, "-says the Kilvas army is nearly upon us!"

"Impossible," the prince retorted, eyes narrowing. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. "Escape is impossible, for all of us."

Ulki seized the young man by the collar, pulling him closer viciously. "For us- but you, my prince... You can escape! You must survive, surely you know this!"

"I won't!" Tibarn snapped back fiercely, not intimidated. Ulki's name struck fear in many people, but Tibarn had known the general since he was a child, and he knew that the man was rather gentle, for all that he was one of the most highly respected generals in the world.

"You must!" Ulki repeated desperately, shaking his prince for emphasis. "We- we can buy you time. None but we few know of your family's-" Ulki swallowed, pain crossing his features but he pushed on despite this, "-of _your_ ability. So long as you survive..."

The door banged open, rebounding off the wall only to be stopped by the outstretched hand of another of the Phoenician resistance fighters, Janaff. "General they've breached the walls!" the scout burst out.

With the heavy wooden door open, sounds of fighting could be heard echoing down the halls.

"Pri- Tibarn." The prince looked back to his mentor, a man he considered to be like an uncle to him.

"..." Tibarn looked away, his expression pained. His gaze settled upon another Phoenician, who had been standing quietly off to the side, eyes focused off to the side. When he noticed the prince's gaze, he quickly made eye contact. The resemblance between prince and subject was so close that they could have been mistaken for brothers.

"...Leave us," Tibarn muttered, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

"My prince, we have no time-" Ulki began to protest.

"Now!"

Ulki and Janaff bowed briefly and obeyed, shutting the door behind them.

"Tyson," Tibarn mumbled, striding over to the other male. They met each other halfway, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders in an embrace. Tibarn pressed his forehead against Tyson's, his eyes bright.

"Tibarn... You know that Ulki's right-" Tyson was silenced by the urgent, desperate press of Tibarn's lips. "Mm... Tibarn..." he moaned softly, panting as he pulled away. "Y-you must-" Tyson broke off as Tibarn nipped his way down the pale column of his throat, latching onto the juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking desperately, as if he could commit Tyson's taste to memory.

"I can't bear it," Tibarn mouthed against his skin. "I can't, not after father, mother... T-Talia and the twins and- not you, I can't take it. No one else, Tyson..."

Tyson stroked his fingers through his prince's shaggy hair, trying to sooth him. "This... is surely selfish, but I can't bear... Can't bear the thought of you dead... Tibarn, please..." he whispered, lips brushing against the dark strands as he spoke.

Tibarn's heart broke at the words, but he pulled back, tawny eyes meeting Tyson's hazel gaze. Tyson, who had never asked anything of his prince, who had given him everything... Tyson... Tibarn swallowed hard. "...I understand," he murmured. "I won't- I won't let you down, Tyson." _Any more than I already have..._ "One day... Phoenicis will return to her former glory. She'll surpass it. Your- your sacrifice, everyone's... I won't waste it," he vowed fiercely.

Tyson smiled, the despair in his eyes overcome by his love for the man standing before him. "Tibarn," he breathed softly, the syllables almost obscured by the sounds of combat from outside. "I know you will; but if you can just be happy... That knowledge alone will be enough for me."

How he could be happy, when everyone he loved that was still alive was going to die, Tibarn didn't know, but he mustered a smile that felt halfway genuine for his lover. "I'll keep that in mind. It's a promise," he answered, pressing their lips together gently one last time.

Ulki burst through the door as they were pulling back, Janaff hot on his heels; another rebel pulled the door shut behind the two officers and Ulki twisted the lock, though the bolt wouldn't hold for long. "My prince-"

"Thank you, all of you; I won't forget you, I swear it. Your sacrifice will not be in vain," Tibarn said quietly, ignoring the brief, violent sounds of fighting, then the steady thumping as enemy forces attempted to break down the door. Removing the silver circlet that proclaimed him the Phoenician prince, Tibarn placed it gently on Tyson's brow. The two were dressed in identical outfits, and with the circlet... Well, few people knew what Tibarn _really_ looked like, so Tyson could easily pass as the prince.

"Go now," Tyson murmured sadly, drawing his sword. The wooden door groaned and shuddered under the Kilvan assault.

Tibarn nodded and turned away. The window was already open, the dark night beyond it beckoning... Tibarn ran, shifting as he did so...

And a sleek, dark hawk burst into the night, feathers blending with the sky to disappear.

Disappear, and leave what was left of his friends and family to die.

xx

**Kilvas, Castle Kilvas**

"Up at this late - or rather, early - hour, Prince Naesala?" a familiar voice inquired, though his old tutor Nealuchi sounded more amused than scolding.

The sixteen year old nodded, impatiently brushing his blue bangs out of his eyes. "I couldn't sleep- not when the King is out at war," he answered, his tone flippant.

The elderly Kilvan raised an eyebrow. "Worried, Your Highness?"

Naesala bit back a scoff, casting his gaze around for any who might be within earshot in the library at this hour. "The King can handle himself," he responded coolly.

Nealuchi inclined his head. "Of course. Now, to bed, my young prince?" he suggested mildly.

"If you insist," he replied easily, closing the ancient tome of magic that he had been reading. "So has there been any news?"

The pair walked out of the vast library side by side, Nealuchi's cane ticking quietly against the marble floor.

"Prince Reyson and Princess Leanne continue to resist His Royal Majesty's advances; they have withdrawn their ambassadors from Kilvas," the old man reported, sounding bored.

Naesala scowled, though his features immediately smoothed out into an expression of mild interest. There was no telling who might or might not be observing them at this hour. "That is... unfortunate. I was more talking about the Phoenician rebels, however..."

"Ah, my mistake. I believe he subdued the rebels a few hours ago; Prince Tibarn was killed, but General Ulki and a few other prominent rebels were captured. The army will be returning within the week."

"Hm. I presume the mages were exhausted with the effort of warping the entire army all the way to Phoenicis," Naesala remarked.

"Naturally. Though it's not the entire army, merely a few elite units," Nealuchi corrected.

"Whatever," came the dismissive reply.

"If you're to be the future ruler of Kilvas..."

"Yeah, yeah, just spare me. I already know how this conversation ends," Naesala snapped, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Nealuchi merely inclined his head. "I trust your studies in magic, at least, are not so half-hearted."

The prince felt an eyebrow twitch. "Magic is actually interesting," he retorted, tightening his grip on his current tome protectively.

"I'm sure. Well, good night, Highness." Nealuchi bowed and departed down another hall, leaving Naesala to continue up to his room alone.

"Stupid old man," he muttered under his breath, nodding at the guards posted at either side of his bedroom's door. He didn't really mean it; Nealuchi was practically his father, he'd taught Naesala everything there was to know, really.

Shutting and locking the door behind himself, Naesala dropped the tome onto his desk. It really was late; the horizon was already lightening. Sighing to himself, the prince began to undress.

_Thunk_.

Naesala flinched, hands raised to unbutton his shirt. "What..?" he muttered to himself, striding over to the glass doors leading to the small balcony. He didn't think it was an assassin; at the very least, it seemed unlikely that anyone could have scaled five stories...

He peered out cautiously. Some kind of bird – a hawk, his mind quickly supplied, and a large one at that – was lying there, unconscious. On his balcony. "What in the world..?" Naesala stared at the bird in disbelief. Apparently it had flown into the glass doors. What a stupid bird.

Shaking his head, Naesala unlocked the door and gingerly picked up the hawk. It was limp, out cold. Still, it was warm and seemed to be breathing... Despite appearances, Naesala wasn't an inherently cruel person; life at court just made him naturally suspicious of, well, everyone.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," he informed the unconscious bird, carefully laying it out on the couch at the foot of his bed. Hopefully it wouldn't go too insane when it woke up and realized it was trapped in the room... Naesala decided to leave a window open, just in case.

Stifling a yawn, the Kilvan prince finished undressing and got into bed, turning away from the window so that the morning sun wouldn't wake him in a few hours.

xx

**The next day...**

Tibarn woke with a violent start. His entire body ached, though whatever he was lying on seemed comfortable enough. Slitting his eyes open, he realized that he had no idea where he was. Trying to sit up, he ended up rolling off whatever he was on with an undignified squawk. _I'm in hawk form,_ he realized, wings flapping to steady himself.

Rustling behind him drew Tibarn's attention and he perched himself on the back of the couch, body tense and ready for flight. (There was a window open to his right, he could feel the breeze.) A boy, maybe three years younger than himself ,was sitting up in a large bed, long blue hair in disarray. Blinking sleepily, the male rubbed a hand across his eyes with a soft groan.

"Oh, the hawk... right. Er, window's open, if you want to, well, leave," he said, gesturing at the window. Tibarn didn't twitch and after a moment the familiar-seeming male shook his head. "Right. Hawks don't talk, can't understand talking. Goddess I'm tired..."

Rolling over, the noble (for the grandeur of this room suggested considerable wealth, so, he must be a noble) went back to sleep.

Or tried to, anyway. Tibarn hopped forward awkwardly until he was perched on the pillow beside him, peering intently in his face. "Ugh... what?" the teen asked irritably, eyes slitting open in annoyance. He raised a hand to awkwardly pat Tibarn, who endured it for a moment as he tried to figure out who the hell this kid was-

"Ouch! Damn it!" the male cursed, jerking away. He cradled his bleeding hand to his chest, glaring at the hawk. "What's your problem!" he demanded.

Tibarn felt himself trembling with rage, but no, no, it was too soon. This wasn't- Yes, this wasn't that _lying, lecherous scum_, no matter the resemblance. It must be the Kilvan heir. Naesala. Yes, that was his name. He was in the same room as the Kilvan prince. He could _kill_ the boy..!

"Stupid bird," Naesala muttered, rising to go clean out the cut and breaking Tibarn out of his reverie.

( "_My brother?" A scornful, arrogant laugh. "He'd rather waste away in the library researching useless old magic than learn to fight. He's totally unsuited to be the King of Kilvas. Would you really want to give your daughter to someone like that..?_" )_  
_

Tibarn flapped his wings in agitation and took flight, disappearing out the window.

xx

The hawk soared high above Castle Kilvas, his grief only held back by the cold fury and his thoughts of revenge. On one hand, Naesala had never done anything to the Phoenicians; indeed, the heir's apparent disinterest in all matters military was rather striking, but that didn't mean Tibarn was going to spare him. No, he would die like his father, and the rest of the Kilvans who had stolen his life from him.

But he could use Naesala. If he pretended to be the prince's pet... His pride barely even allowed him to think it, but Tibarn knew he had no chances of exacting revenge otherwise. If he became Naesala's pet, he could no doubt learn valuable information, and he would be within striking distance of the Kilvan King...

Swallowing his pride for the moment, Tibarn decided. He would - somehow - make himself the prince's companion (pet was too degrading a word; he refused to think that he had sunk so low) and from there... Well. He had all the time in the world, didn't he? Everyone thought he was dead... Tyson _was_ dead, in his place...

Viciously shoving those thoughts away, Tibarn folded his wings and dived; the wind rushing in his ears, burning at his eyes, was almost a distraction. Almost.

xx

"...A paper cut."

Nealuchi's deceptively mild gaze pierced Naesala.

"Yeah. Those tomes are dangerous," he said gravely, the smirk on his lips belying his words. "That's what you're always telling me, right?"

He just got A Look.

"Anyway... There's something that I wanted to ask you about. I'm almost seventeen, and..."

"Perhaps we can retire to your rooms," the elder suggested drily.

"Of course," he responded haughtily.

When they reached his rooms, Naesala was very surprised to discover the hawk from that morning had returned and was perched proudly on the back of his desk chair.

"What's this? You're taking up falconry, Highness?" Nealuchi stared at first the hawk, then his pupil, in disbelief.

Naesala frowned at the old man. "Don't be absurd. I found this ungrateful bird unconscious on my balcony last night," he retorted, resisting the urge to fidget uncomfortably as the golden eyes of the hawk gazed at him intently.

"Indeed," Nealuchi murmured thoughtfully, making no secret of his study of the bird. "And I suppose this is the one responsible for your... paper cut."

"Just let it go, Nealuchi."

"At any rate, I suggest you wait until your father returns; any questions you have, you may save for him," the old man stated, turning away abruptly.

"What-? Hey, I have a serious question I need you to answer!" Naesala protested, but Nealuchi was already gone, the door shutting firmly behind him. "Stupid old man moves faster than you'd expect..." he mumbled sulkily.

The hawk had no reply to that, it merely blinked slowly.

"...Okay, great. Look, hawk, I need to study, so if you'd just get off that chair...I'd appreciate it," Naesala told the bird. _How pathetic is that, you're talking to a dumb bird who can't even understand you, much less talk back!_ Clearly there was something wrong with him. Not that this was a surprise.

A moment later, the hawk took flight before settling on the window ledge, though it was still watching him.

"...Weird." Taking the now-vacant seat, Naesala settled in to study. His older brother had always scoffed at his love of magic and dislike of physical fighting, but it really was a useful tool, one which Naesala intended to expand upon and improve even more. He was already adept at fire and thunder magic; his wind magic was unmatched by any of his peers, only the great archsages could claim to be better than him.

xx

"Tibarn is alive? You're sure of this?"

"I'm not completely certain... But given the Phoenician royalty's special trait, it seems likely."

"You know he'll want revenge."

"Who could blame him for that?"

"I can sympathize, to some extent. The Kilvan King-"

"Yes, quite. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"As you know, the King is still sick..."

* * *

So. What did you think? This is a non-laguz AU, as I said, but the ability to shift into other animals is still around. And yeah, in case you hadn't guessed... It's going to be a slash story. Tibarn/Naesala, to be exact.

OCs will also be around, though I try not to use them too much. And anyway, so long as they're not the focus of the story, my opinion is that OCs aren't a bad thing. Could be just me though.

And uh, for people also following Break, this story might take precedence over it. Sorry about that.

Comments/criticism are muchly appreciated ~


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